ing '_we shall not surely die_,' a work which was
supposed to belong especially to the devil, has been supposed to have
been accomplished by him with a success continually irresistible. What,
then, is likely to be the case now, with men who are still beset with
the same temptations, when not only they have no hell to frighten, no
heaven to allure, and no God to help them; but when all the arguments
that they once felt belonged to the father of lies, are pressed on them
from every side as the most solemn and universal truths? Thus far the
result has been a singular one. With an astonishing vigour the moral
impetus still survives the cessation of the forces that originated and
sustained it; and in many cases there is no diminution of it traceable,
so far as action goes. This, however, is only true, for the most part,
of men advanced in years, in whom habits of virtue have grown strong,
and whose age, position, and circumstances secure them from strong
temptation. To see the real work of positive thought we must go to
younger men, whose characters are less formed, whose careers are still
before them, and on whom temptation of all kinds has stronger hold. We
shall find such men with the sense of virtue equally vivid in them, and
the desire to practise it probably far more passionate; but the effect
of positive thought on them we shall see to be very different.

Now, the positive school itself will say that such men have all they
need. They confessedly have conscience left to them--the supernatural
moral judgment, that is, as applied to themselves--which has been
analysed, but not destroyed; and the position of which, we are told, has
been changed only by its being set on a foundation of fact, instead of a
foundation of superstition. Mill said that having learnt what the sunset
clouds were made of, he still found that he admired them as much as
ever; '_therefore_,' he said, '_I saw at once that there was nothing to
be feared from analysis_.' And this is exactly what the positive school
say of conscience. A shallower falsehood, however, it is not easy to
conceive. It is true that conscience in one way may, for a time at
least, survive any kind of analysis. It may continue, with undiminished
distinctness, its old approvals and menaces. But that alone is nothing
at all to the point. Conscience is of practical value, not only because
it says certain things, but because it says them, as we think, with
authority. If its authority g